


Crow Secrets.

by rainbowturtle2



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Antivan Crows, Crack, Drinking, Gen, This is not to be taken seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 13:49:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16517690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainbowturtle2/pseuds/rainbowturtle2
Summary: Zevran gets drunk and shares Crow Secrets.Alistair doesn't know what to do with this knowledge.





	Crow Secrets.

The Warden, Aedan Cousland, wasn’t sure of the _true_ reason for suggesting to go to the tavern in Redcliffe. If it was to celebrate them killing the undead (on fire! The oil was a horrible idea, _Zevran was right_ ) or if it was to drink enough for them to forget having to fight the undead… He wasn’t sure.

Cousland knows he’s there to drink until he forgets the gore of the undead walking, at least. Whatever the companions are there for, that’s up to them. He doesn’t care. He orders an ale and does not drown himself in it. Finishes it too quickly, yes, but doesn’t drown himself in it.

Drink flows a bit too freely, and he notices Zevran feels safe enough among them to get well and truly _sloshed_. Knowing the assassin, months on the road together brings personal boundaries to basically nothing, he _would_ have accused him of pretending to be drunk.

The amount of tankards in front of him, and how the bartender eventually _does_ refuse him another drink, that’s reason enough for Cousland to believe he truly isn’t faking it.

Zevran somehow discusses, very definitely not _argues_ , his way to one final drink. The other companions are possibly a bit better off than Zevran, but none of them by any means sober. Oghren looks at home. Leliana smiles behind a tankard, and Morrigan wishes she had stayed at camp. Alistair is sitting next to Zevran, and he knows he won’t be able to outdrink the elf by any means. Ever.

Suddenly Zevran turns to face Alistair, his back to the door of the tavern. The companions all look startled at his sudden movement. The elf puts his hands on each side of Alistair’s face and pulls him closer, Cousland can see Alistair trying to get out of the grasp.

“Listen,” Zevran says, slurs the word a little. He stares Alistair much too deeply into the eyes. “Listen,” he says again, his eyes unfocused. “My friend, Alistair, mi corazón.”

Alistair can see Zevran swallow thickly.

“You are big, strong warrior, yes?” Zevran says, at Alistair’s nod, he speaks up again. “And I am an assassin. I have,” he’s quiet for a moment. “An assassination tip for you.”

Alistair wishes he was facing the other way so he could beg Cousland for help with his eyes.

“Just,” Zevran says, his accent heavy in his words. “Crow secret. Big, big Crow secret. Never tell another soul big Crow secret.”

Alistair swallows thickly, wonders how he’s supposed to get out of that. Weren’t Crow secrets something people got killed over knowing? Maker, was Zevran going to kill him tonight? He looks at the assassin for a moment. No, he is… he’s probably not capable of killing anything except more brain cells. He feels his heart beat harshly in his chest in _fear_.

Behind them, neither notices, the companions all look on with drunken interest.

Zevran exhales deeply, and Alistair can smell the ale in his breath.

“Listen… Alistair… My friend….” he says, words slurred. “Do you know what you always, _always_ , should have nearby? Close to you, so you can grab at a moment’s notice?”

Alistair feels himself shake in fear, just the slightest bit, at the words. Was Zevran condemning him to death by letting him in on this? Maybe the bartender secretly is a Crow too, waiting for the moment to strike. Maybe the drinks were poisoned. Shit.

“N-no?” Alistair says, swallows.

Zevran looks at him for a moment. Makes eye contact. Alistair can’t look away.

“A fork.”

The silence is overwhelming, for a second. Alistair wonders if the bartender stops wiping the same tankard at Zevran’s one sentence. He wonders if the companions behind him stops breathing, too. And from the deafening silence, all clues point to yes.

“What?”

Zevran, still holding Alistair’s face, stares him dead in the eyes. Keeps the eye contact for an uncomfortably long time.

“Always,” he starts. “Always carry a fork with you.”

Alistair doesn’t know what to respond, so he merely blinks at the assassin.

“If someone tries to rob you, or there’s bandits, or pickpocket you, or, or kill you?” Zevran asks, he sounds more sober than before. “Just bring a fork. Take it out of your pocket. Look them in the eyes.”

“Maker’s breath, where is this going, Zevran?”

Zevran looks at him for a moment, before speaking up again.

“Look them in the eyes, and with the fork in your hand, you say as bravely as you can…” he stops to breathe, looks Alistair dead in the eyes. “‘ _Thank you, Maker, for this meal I am about to have_ ’ and charge at them.”

Zevran lets go of Alistair’s face, turns back to the bar properly. He stares down into the tankard still containing some ale like it contains all the answers to _everything_. Zevran is quiet for another moment, before he whispers loudly to himself.

“Street smarts…”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this tumblr post](https://xxwolfmeetstheskyxx.tumblr.com/post/179370546320/heres-a-tip)


End file.
